


Star Trek: For Progress

by panclan_savi



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Environmentalism, Gen, Planet Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panclan_savi/pseuds/panclan_savi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise Crew discovers a planet destroyed by it's inhabitants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Trek: For Progress

**Author's Note:**

> One might wish to briefly reference Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath’s novel Triangle.  
> Hope you enjoy!

The man so closely resembled Gailbraith Kirk’s authoritative façade nearly failed him and had this man projected the hostility of oneness he was certain Spock would have lost his control as well.  
His cheeks were concaved and his eyes were dark, he appeared to be man who had witnessed every human atrocity, every living being atrocity capable of being committed. The folds at the corners of his nose acted as the trail of a continuous stream of tears. He cried even when his lips turned upright in happiness.  
“They call me Eo Ire Itum.” Spock straightened. A look of curiosity came from a young ensign’s face. “I am the only remaining of my species.”  
“How? What happened?” Kirk questioned.  
“We happened,” crushed as he was, Eo Ire Itum slipped to the dry world.  
Kirk retrieved his communicator, “Scotty, four to beam up. Have McCoy standby.”  
“Aye Sir.”  
Kirk could feel himself being materialized within the transporter room of the Enterprise. McCoy had one look at Eo, “What in the blazes! To sickbay immediately!”  
“What do you make of it Spock?” Kirk asked. Spock raised an eyebrow in contemplation, “I would need to make further scans of the planet surface.”  
Scans were not needed to see the decay of a planet. From the view screen the atmosphere was so deeply saturated with blackness, the surface dry and lifeless could only be seen through intensive screening. Very little could survive in such an atmosphere. Kirk glanced over at the science station. “Progress, Mr. Spock?”  
“As initial scans suggest, Eo Ire Itum was the only humanoid present on the surface. The thickness of the pollutant makes screening difficult but from what I surmise, a small population of creatures, approximately one meter in length reside on the planet surface. And Captain, they are partially composed of Polyethylene Terephthalate.”  
“Plastic, Spock?”  
“Precisely Captain, used primarily for beverage containers and waterproof packaging of 20th century Earth. The use of such plastic was discontinued by the year 2018 to decrease-” “McCoy to Captain Kirk” the on-ship communicator rang. “McCoy.” Kirk replied.  
“Jim, you should come to sick bay immediately.”  
Spock thought it was unprofessional of the Doctor to use the Captain’s first name while on duty. He also thought he had an explanation of the planet’s destruction, yet without further investigation it was only conjecture. He intended to assess the facts to produce a theory.

   
“This man shouldn’t be alive.” McCoy hated his next words, “And won’t be for much longer.” He sighed. To lose a patient was to lose something in his soul. “Everything that could be wrong is. Organ failure, severe malnutrition, food-borne illness, dangerously developed cancer of the lungs. Even if I could fix all that, even if I was a miracle worker and could cure a dying body in the time he has left, I couldn’t cure a broken heart.”  
Spock understood the reference to which the doctor made however illogical. “I have seen signs of depression, of stress, I have seen the years break a person down but nothing quite like this. You do not need computed tomography to see it in the man’s face. He has nothing, no will, no passion, and that is toxic.”  
“Is he able to speak?” Spock asked the doctor.  
“Why you heartless, green blooded-”  
“Doctor.” Spock interrupted. He knew McCoy tended to lash out with profanity and verbal threat when emotionally compromised. He respected him, held a certain admiration towards him and knew he would listen to reason.  
“I do not ask this for reasons selfish or otherwise menacing. If I believed discovery was not absolutely dependent upon the wisdom of Eo Ire Itum, I would not question him during his unlikely recovery.”  
“Discovery, Spock! It’s all a God damned science project isn’t it!” The doctor’s drawl came in strong at the peak of anger.  
“You must consider that the planet we are orbiting and the creatures inhabiting it are in imminent danger. Without progressive action, we will surely watch the death of an entire ecosystem and culture. We doctor, are working against time, of which there is little left, if there is any hope for the recovery of this planet we must act now.”  
What came over his face was understanding. “Go ahead then Spock and I’m-” the doctor trailed off. “Your apology is understood and accepted.” Spock concluded as the inner sickbay doors slid open to allow his entrance.  
“Nurse.” Spock greeted Christine. He immediately raised his metal shields to ward off the emotions Chapel unknowingly projected. He found that her admiration only grew as he attempted to severe any connections. Spock did love Chapel but in a way one would love a revolutionary explorer or prominent author, from a professional stand point. “Oh hello, Mr. Spock.” She blushed. “I intend to speak with Eo Ire Itum, I ask that you deliverer a mild stimulant to rouse him from his sleep.”  
“Progress, Mr. Spock?” Chapel inquired. The question at first confused him. The captain continually asked this question in the midst of scanning or research but it did not seem to be logically sound with a clear objective at hand. “Nurse Chapel, since I am not currently engaged in any research, I do not understand the nature-”  
“No, Mr. Spock. His name.”  
“What of it?” Spock questioned.  
“Eo Ire Itum is Latin. In standard, its translation means progress.” Spock was genuinely surprised that it had not occurred to him to reference the computer library in order to discover the meaning of Eo Ire Itum’s name. He felt suddenly gratified and thankful for the Nurse’s intelligent. Although his facial expression and posture remained neutral, Spock allowed his mental shields to fall momentarily. He projected a feeling of warmth and appreciation in which, through Chapel’s sudden change in body posture, he was certain the nurse could sense. Closing himself once more, Spock continued toward the patient’s room, Chapel’s growing happiness still apparent. Had it not been a pressing moment which required immediate attention, Spock would have allowed himself an internal smile. 

“He should be awake in a jiff.” McCoy spoke. Spock ignored the increment of time in which the doctor used, he would consult the computer library to understand the phrase in its entirety at another time. “Chapel gave him a pretty fair dose of stimulants.”  
“Doctor, there are many terms I would use to describe the condition of this patient but fair is certainly not one of them.”  
A groan silenced what would have been an unkind response from the doctor. “The pain,” A dull voice intoned, “is nothing in comparison.” Tears welled in the corners of a darkened face. Spock understood and felt a certain sadness. Logic was only the beginning of wisdom. “I die and my death holds no value.” A spasm contorted the sad face. “I cannot!” came a chocking response to a nonexistent request.  
“I must request a mind meld.” Spock flatly spoke. “Why?” Kirk demanded. He understood the Captain’s concern. He knew the question was unreasonable and asked in a spur of emotion. The last mind meld Spock shared deeply affected him. “Captain, you know as well as I do that to attempt to retrieve the information I seek verbally would delay us and extend the amount of Eo Ire Itum’s suffering.” The doctor nodded in agreement.  
Spock allowed his mental shields to fall as he pressed his fingers on the katra points of the dying man’s face. He expected initial resistance as it was natural to reject mental bond, to fear it, to fear trust, and to have an unwillingness to share vulnerabilities. The doctor was right, he had nothing, not even a desire to protect his own mind. Spock felt his mind immediately touch profound sadness. Spock felt heat rush to his face, a feeling he had when engaged in his last mind meld, a continual childhood occurrence; Spock felt tears cover his skin. “I am sorry.” Spock and Progress spoke in unison. Images of billowing clouds possessed their thoughts. Spock suddenly felt choked. A thick white substance filled his nostrils, the scent so pungent it nearly caused him to collapse. Sadness torn his rotting flesh. He looked to himself momentarily and sought death. “Our world,” they spoke, “cannot be saved. Death now, is our option. We die and it means nothing. I, us, Eo Ire Itum, progress means nothing.” Spock strengthened himself and made every attempt to project peace. “What does technology mean if it gives death!” It was not a question rather a statement that created void and loss in every facet of Spock’s existence. He failed to produce warmth and felt Progress die.  
Spock pulled himself free. Releasing the bonds of the mind meld which immediately cast an antagonizing void in his consciousness. Hot tears ran freely from his eyes. “Pain!” the Vulcan sobbed, “He only knew pain!” Losing his strength as crushed as he was, Spock collapsed and slipped to the cold tile floors of sick bay. 

“His entire world was destroyed through the carelessness of its inhabitants. Progress they called it. But what is Progress if it dies as well?” Spock searched the depths of his own mind for a solution. “It is too late, Captain, we are several years too late.” Kirk looked down at the Vulcan, particularly human in his loss. McCoy stood nearby, a tricorder in hand.  
“Everything checks out.” McCoy whispered to Kirk. The Vulcan immediately understood the doctor’s phrase, although he did not feel healthy.  
“I was drowning.” Spock cried, “In the blood of the living, thick and white. The blood of deforestation. Progress would walk through the barren fields of destruction and drown in scent of death. The waste of Progress was consumed by inhabitants of the decaying world. Filth, the only accurate descriptor, billowed endlessly in the atmosphere. Byproduct intruded upon the natural landscape. It was beautiful once, I assure you captain. Attempts at saving it now are our beyond our reach. Their world failed to react when it was most important.”


End file.
